


Little Pawn

by TheVelvetOverhead



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Domestic Fluff, Fahrenheit has feelings and is maybe a little ooc, Father-Daughter Relationship, Implied Relationships, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Personal Growth, Rejection, Running Away, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-17 01:08:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14177283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheVelvetOverhead/pseuds/TheVelvetOverhead
Summary: Doesn't take a genius to realize that Fahrenheit can’t stand Nora. Heck, who could put up with the woman that tried to kill you? Needless to say, things don’t get better when Hancock takes an interest in the Sole Survivor. Feelings of rejection and treason arise in the redhead as she realizes that, maybe, she has always just been a little pawn after all.Dispensable, unimportant, and easily replaceable.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It always baffled me the fact that Hancock does not seem to care that much if you kill Fahrenheit in The Big Dig even though it is implied that they share a deep bond (lovers or father-daughter, depending on the source). I for one would feel quite betrayed if the person I care the most forgave so easily someone who tried to kill me. Wouldn’t you? 
> 
> But it’s not us who we are talking about here–but Fahrenheit.
> 
> And so, this story was conceived.
> 
> Btw, I’m using the (step)father-daughter theory in this story and, therefore, I imagine the redhead being in her mid-twenties more or less. 
> 
> Enjoy!

The explosion started bright and early in the morning—at 08:15:21 to be precise—forcing the room and the building foundations to sway in a violent rumble. It was sharp enough to shake the whole city, causing the neighbors to take the streets within minutes of hearing the bellowing sound; it was strong enough to make Fahrenheit take her eyes off her chess game.

She raised her head, watching as the Old State House’s beams struggled to stand; splinters and dust falling from the roof. No explanation was needed; the redhead already knew the answer to the question that the people of Goodneighbor was wondering about. Even Hancock, who was already high on jet since the very early hours of the morning, knew what that fuss what about.

After months of scrutiny and observation, Bobbi "fucking" No-Nose had finally gotten down to business.

A look and a nod were more than enough for the young bodyguard to get going. After all, it was not necessary to be very bright, at least not much more than the stupid self-proclaimed “legitimate” businesswoman, to realize that she was up to something. As in all missions, Fahrenheit slipped on her armour, picked up her weapons and went through the door without looking back.

What she didn’t count on, though, was that that mission wouldn’t be just like the rest.

 

##

 

It was irrational, crazy and God knows what else. Fahrenheit bit her lower lip and felt cold sweat beading up on her forehead, noticing the icy, raw steel of the gun barrel pressed to the crown of her skull.

Like the bullets of her precious Ashmaker, blazing sparks of anger flickered in her eyes. Only this time, her gaze was uncertain, baffled and disoriented—like a stray bullet.

Her knees touching the cold floor of the warehouse, her hands closed into tightly clenched fists and in front of her, the new player, that stupid woman. The redhead knew that she should have taken care of the situation before things got out of hand. She knew that, rather than Finn, they should have taken care of her.

A shame that Hancock always kept her from having fun.

“Damnit Bobbi, what’s going on!?”, the woman dressed in the flashy blue jumpsuit held her 10mm pistol with confidence, but Fahrenheit could hear her voice trembling with anxiety. She cocked her head sideways and stared at the ghoul. “This isn’t Diamond City!”

“So, what? This doesn’t change anything. It’s still the same job—”

“It changes _**everything**_ , Bobbi!”

Fahrenheit watched as worry settled like fine dust over the woman’s features and, for a tiny–audacious–moment, though that she could turn the tables on her, snatching the pistol and getting away with it. But then she looked around, at the two Triggermen's lifeless bodies and at her very own weapon inches away from her. One false move and ka– _fucking_ –boom. The young bodyguard frowned and remained silent. Being reckless was not her style and, like a game of chess, every move and decision had to be carefully calculated. Defeat was not an option and, whether chess pieces, limbs or life, Fahrenheit was not willing to lose anything.

Not after having gotten that far.

“Listen guys, I know this isn’t what you expected. But there are still ton of caps on the line here. You won’t regret it!”

“B-but this is Hancock we’re ripping off here…” The red haired man that accompanied them finally spoke; his eyes red from crying and his hands full of broken, rusty eyebot’s scrap metal. “The guy tends to hold grudges—”

“Would you guys just shut up!? I’m trying to think here!”

Her shriek echoed around, making the flimsy walls rumble. Fahrenheit raised an eyebrow, surprised, and stared at the woman—now pale as a dead man—who was trembling like a leaf while spasmodic sobs agitated her chest. Wow; the new girl had guts after all. Who would have thought it? Specially after how taken aback she looked with Finn’s threat and her reaction as Hancock stabbed the asshole. Such a shame she decided to team up and mess with the wrong ghouls.

“What is this about, Bobbi? Why did you lie to us?”

“This isn’t how this is supposed to go…”

“How were things _supposed to go_ , then? With our guts decorating the walls of the fu– _fucking_ warehouse?” She sighed, disappointment clouding her eyes. “J-just go… Go back into the tunnel before things get worse… You too, Mel.”

“B-but… Sonya is…”

“G- _Goddamn_ , Mel!”

A cocky grin crept across Fahrenheit’s face. The woman was trying so hard to look tough that it was almost comical. For fucks sake! She was about to cry and couldn’t even curse properly! It was when the redhead took advantage of the situation and threw all the weight of her body against her opponent, nudging her under the chin and trying to get rid of her grip. She then got up and ran towards her own gun… Until the jumpsuit freak pounced on her, disabling her.

In a matter of seconds, Fahrenheit found herself onto her stomach, lying flat on the floor and with the hands behind her back—the cold steel gun barrel pressed hard against her temple once again.

“Wrong move,” she hissed, her lips pressed highly together. “You’re going to regret this…”

“I can assure you that I’m not the one making a false move, don’t you think?”

The redhead grunted at the remark. She gasped sharply as she felt the woman’s knee digging into her lower back. Suddenly, a heart-breaking pain ran through her spine and she felt every bit of strength draining from her body. Her attempt to scream was useless. She inhaled quickly, feeling her heart ripple against her sore chest.

And then, all the lights went out and the whole world went black.


	2. Chapter 2

Fahrenheit woke with a start, panting abruptly and covered in cold sweat. She winced, as if she had just awakened from a nightmare and breathed deep, searching for air. Her pulse beat at a frantic pace. She felt dazed and her lungs ached; every breath of air was an effort that left her exhausted. She put her hand over her heart, trying to regulate that erratic rhythm and soften her spasms. It was as if she had forgotten how to breathe.

She looked up and tried to inspect the room from the uncomfortable and dirty old mattress she was lying on. She had woken up with throbbing pain in one eye and her vision was blurry. She lowered her gaze and her lips were drawn back from her teeth in a grimace as she watched the uneven rise and fall of her chest. It was then that she noticed the bandages covering her wrist and torso.

The redhead frowned and proceeded to slip the rough tips of her fingers along her neck, down her collarbone, until they ended in the valley between her small breasts. She moaned in pain and jerked her hand away in a quick, suddenly motion as she felt a sharp prick in her ribs. She then decided not to make any mode abrupt movements and looked more closely at the uncovered purplish marks on her forearm. Fahrenheit wrinkled her nose and looked up, meeting a pair of expressive eyes—black like two dark pools of ink—that shone in the gloom.

“Hey,” she was greeted by a raspy voice. The girl blinked and rubbed her eyes, recognizing the scrawny silhouette of the man standing a few feet away from her. He was sitting in one of the chairs scattered around the room, with his chest leaning against the backrest, the chin resting on his arms and those two big, shiny black holes riveting on her. “How ya doing?”

Fahrenheit didn’t answer, it was not her habit to do so after all. She simply raised her head, squinted her eyes and examined the room again. She couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief as she recognized her own room.

“What? Can’t even tell your own place? Did your chems just kick in or something?” Hancock, Goodneighbor’s Mayor and—according to him—the best dressed ghoul that side of the Commonwealth, laughed at his own comment. The young woman continued to ignore him; her two gray eyes inspecting and feeling the bandages. “You’re in the Old State House, remember?”

“I think that’s exactly the problem; that I don’t remember a damn thing.” She finally muttered without even looking at him.

“Really? Heard it was a hell of a show,” his gaze lit up with amusement. “Shame I missed all the fun.”

“So you could _what_? Shall I remind you about last time the Super Mutants got a little too friendly?”

“Care to refresh my memory? I think jet’s fucked me up in the head.”

“Your head has always been fucked up to begin with,” she answered, her expression deadpan.

The redhead then finally looked up, her gaze locking with his. Her own eyes blazed with defiance and contempt at him. For several minutes the two glanced at each other in silence until, all of a sudden Hancock threw his head back and laughed; his careless giggle breaking the silence.

“Heh. You’ve been out cold for two days and that’s the first thing you say to me? Smartest thing to come outta you’re mouth in a while, I must admit.”

The ghoul stood and approached her, sitting beside the young woman on the bed. He stared at her with a strange glint in his eyes and put a hand on hers, his rough thumb brushing her soft skin.

“Glad to have you back, sunshine. Missed you.”

He smiled and Fahrenheit could not help but smile shyly back at him. For a moment, the cold room seemed to warm up.

 

##

 

The following days after waking up passed without notable event. The redhead simply lay on the bed, flipping through the pages of a _Guns and Bullets_ old magazine and smoking quick cigarettes behind her caretaker’s back.

“Smoking is off limits while you recover, young lady!” Hancock had exclaimed scandalized the first time that she happened to light one in front of him. Fahrenheit had just rolled her eyes, finding the ghoul’s hypocrisy tiresome.

“And look who’s talking,” she muttered as she took a defiant puff.

After that incident, many more things ended up joining the banned list and the girl was forced to keep a couple of carton of smokes hidden under the mattress. She felt like a twelve-year old again; except she had much more freedom back then.

The days were tedious, sometimes even painfully slow, but Fahrenheit quickly grew used to them. During all this time, John visited her assiduously, keeping her company and helping her changing her bandages (he tried to feed her once, but the knife’s sharp tip ended up dangerously close to his eye) while _entertaining her_ with some of his bad jokes.

“Oh. Oh. Oh! This one’s new!” He said excitedly as he cleared his throat. “What do you call a Brahmin that eats your grass? A lawn _moo_ -er.”

And then he would laugh at his own joke, his laughter booming out into the room. Fahrenheit, on the other hand, would continue wearing that blank expression of hers as usual. In those moments, though, she would look away from her book and watch Hancock closely, analyzing his gestures. Do you know the meaning of coldness? The redhead was the perfect representation of the word, a full fleshed tribute to its definition and the run dry of an algorithm full of harshness. In fact, there were very few things that made her laugh. She would just press her lips together and conceal her teeth. Even so, she was psyched when Hancock did it with such passion.

And then, for a tiny moment, she would think she could get used to all that.

But nothing lasts forever, does it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was going to have more content and less fill. But then, savage fluff appeared and I'm weak against it, specially domestic fluff.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, first of all, I would like to thank everybody who took their time to read, leave kudos and comment. This was the fic that I always wanted to write and that I though that no one would care about. Buuuuut, seeing that people was actually interested and—moreover—encouraged me to keep going made me very happy :)
> 
> At first, this chapter was going to be split in two (it's muuuuch longer that the other two, you see); but I want to start making longer chapters with actual content so, uh, after last fluffy filler, things are starting to roll!  
> Feedback, suggestions and tips (specially grammar wise, ugh) are more than welcome; as always!
> 
> Thank you so much! :)

Ephemerality (from Greek εφήμερος – _ephemeros_ , literally “lasting only one day”) is the concept of things being transitory, existing only briefly. Typically, the term is used to describe something transient, something that lasts a limited period of time. Thus, we say that something ephemeral is anything that has little life and is bounded to disappear after a short time.

Let us, for example, consider a wastelander that joins a group of raiders. First and foremost, he will proceed to engage with his “new friends” in new and exciting activities such as pillage, plunder, murder, or otherwise ruin the day of anyone unfortunate enough to not be one of them. And then, one fateful day, he will wake up with more Med-X than blood in his veins and come up with a _brilliant_ and suicidal idea like facing a Behemoth barehanded. His companions will then speak of his ephemeral time with them and the stupidity of his late partner—especially that last part. Basically, because it’s highly unlikely that a raider is aware of a fine word such as “ephemeral”, don’t you think?

In the same way, we can say that the life expectancy of a bloatfly, one of the Wasteland’s most disgusting creatures, is also ephemeral since it barely lasts a day. Or even less… As long as it takes for a bullet to burst its slimy and repulsive bowels.

Therefore, it wasn’t crazy either wrong to say that, like the life of stupid bandits and radioactive pests, Fahrenheit’s patience was ephemeral. As the days passed by, the young woman could feel time slipping between her fingers. The evenings, which seemed increasingly slim and pointless, grew more distant—a million light years away. After all, the redhead wasn't a woman to simply sit back and watch life go by. Lying down and waiting was not to her liking. It was not her style.

As a result, on the fourth day the bodyguard decided that she had to get going. It was exactly at 9:41 a.m. (just before Hancock’s first daily visit), when the young woman jumped up and started rummaging around her clothes. She soon felt the consequences of her impulsive movements. She gritted her teeth and pressed her lips together, ignoring the vague pangs of pain in her side. Eventually, Fahrenheit put on her boots and rushed through the door. She had already lost a lot of time and life was short—ephemeral, right?

 

##

 

As soon she set foot on the street outside, the first thing Fahrenheit noticed was that autumn had finally reached Goodneighbor, plunging the urb into a bleak scene. The small city, now in monochrome tones, had been blurred by fog and slashed by the rain. Blackened and dusty buildings against the dingy gray sky and, on the city’s worn and rusty ground, not a single soul.

Before reaching the street corner, she felt the need to pause for a few minutes and lit a cigarette, allowing the smoke find its way to her nostrils and lungs with each puff, nicotine enveloping her head with a cloud of dust. She leaned across the wall and inhaled deeply as she watched the butt of the smoke gradually fade away. Damn, it felt a- _fucking_ -mazing! That sure was fresh air and not the polluted shit they breathed every day. She looked up, gazing at the dense clouds that covered the overcast, gloomy celestial vault.

The redhead threw her head back, then blew the smoke and took another drag. She closed her eyes in relaxation, enjoying every puff of the clear white fog circling out of her pouted lips. For a moment a fugitive ray of sunlight streaked from behind a cloud, kissing her cheeks. She was soaked to the bone, but that didn’t stop her from rolling up the sleeves of her shirt, feeling the cool morning breeze caress her own skin.

“How’s Goodneighbor treating ya, toots?” A voice whispered, a hint of humour edging his words.

The girl opened her eyes and squinted at the asshole. She raised the corner of her mouth and frowned, then grunted in response. Needless to say that her gaze was once again focused on the steamy end of her cigarette. So, what? The man was just one of the jerks of the Neighborhood Watch. Oh, don’t get her wrong! It’s not that she didn’t get along with him or anything. She herself was the head of the guardsmen after all. However, we could say that Fahrenheit loathed and despised everyone; everybody and their mom knew that.

“Woah, woah. Calm down! You’ve got a violent look about you. Hope yer not here for me,” he exclaimed as soon as she locked her cold uncaring eyes on him. If looks could kill, he’d be wearing a pine and thick overcoat already.

She bit the cigarette tip, growing increasingly annoyed, “What do you want, Bert?” she asked, trying to get to the point.

“Just patrollin’. Spare a cig?”

His mouth watered and she ended up giving him one. Whatever it took to make him shut his gob.

“Everything good? The Third Rail’s been very quiet without you and the Mayor.”

She snorted and rolled her eyes, “That’s because _that certain_ _Mayor_ ’s more concerned about gettin’ high as fuck in the comfort of his spacious, elegantly furnished state house.”

He chuckled but didn't respond. He seemed uncomfortable with her comment, “He’s a good mayor anyway…” Bert whispered before turning his attention to the smoke coming from my cigarette. “Oh! You should check the new chick he’s been hangin’ with.”

“Fifty caps says he gets bored within a week.”

The redhead mumbled in a terrible attempt at a half joke. God, she sucked at that. It was clear that her thing was being brutally blunt, not caring whether others got offended or not. She didn’t sweeten her life with beautiful words or with impossible dreams.

“I dunno… You should see her. Damn, what an ass. Those blue vault jumpsuits sure make wonders.”

Fahrenheit parted her lips and opened her eyes wide, dropping the cigarette that hung from the corners of her mouth. The fuming butt sparked for a second before burning out as it hit the wet concrete surface. She clicked her tongue in annoyance and looked for another cigar. Her tension increased as she noticed the empty package.

“Wha—what the fuck did you say?”

“Say what? That she’s got an ass like _kabbom_?” he purred into her ear. “Don’t be jelly, sister. You’re not bad yourself—”

“No! Fuck! After that! What was she wearing?”

“Eh? A blue jumpsuit? What’s so important ‘bout that?”

The young woman cursed through clenched teeth and hit the wall with a solid smack, her bones cracking. Without saying a word, she went back to the state house. She rose her eyes up the gray sky for the last time and buried her hand into her trouser pockets. Despite the cold weather, the redhead could feel her blood boiling. The fact is that, even though her usual cold and emotionless demeanor, she ran hot and cold very often—just like temperature.

In that exact moment, 100.5 degrees Fahrenheit, to be precise.

 

##

 

She stopped at the door that led to Hancock’s office and, for a few minutes that seemed eternal, she stood still in front of it like a marble statue. Frozen blood ran through her veins as she clenched her fists. _Laughs_ , she thought. None other than fucking laughs. That was the fucking sound that could be heard on the other side of the hallway. She opened the door as if she would break it down and bolted inside without asking permission. And then, suddenly, silence. Inside, two pairs of eyes looking towards the same point.

Jonh’s face when the door opened and saw Fahrenheit right outside was something worthy of a Kandinsky’s painting: complicated. But who was that foreign man or the intrinsic brilliance of his work didn’t mean crap to anyone. That was shit from before the bombs, after all. The thing is that, when the redhead nearly kicked the door down, the ghoul tried to look as suave and collected as always but ended up failing miserably. Instead and with a broad smile, he clumsily stood up and waved his arms in the direction of the girl.

“Fahr! Been waiting for you!” he said, his face transitioning from severe joy to dry earnestness. In other words, he was high as fuck.

Fahrenheit stared at the guest, her brow furrowing, “What’s she doing here?”

She then noticed the sudden change that swept over the woman’s face. How ironic—now both females shared the same perplexed and astonished expression. The bodyguard leaned against the cornice of the door, her arms and legs crossed at the ankles, and wondered if John had already fucked her.

“Just talking ‘bout business,” he turned to _vaultie_. The redhead didn’t miss the sparkle his eyes gave off. “Don’t worry. We’re in good hands with Fahrenheit. It’s been weeks since she’s crushed anyone’s gourd.”

And, for the first time in history, someone laughed at Hancock’s absurd joke. But that “someone” wasn’t Fahrenheit. In fact, she wasn’t laughing at all. All the muscles of her face remained petrified, in an almost absolute rigor mortis. A recently woken up Deathclaw would be less scary.

“C’mere, take a sit!” the ghoul exclaimed as he pulled himself towards the couch. He pointed to the spot on the sofa that belonged to the redhead only to realize, seconds later, that it was already being occupied by the guest.

John failed to notice the look of hostility on Farenheit’s face; and several giggles, can jets and minutes later, the young girl was still leaning on the threshold of the door with her arms crossed and her eyes fixed on Hancock.

“So, how did you find out? Who told you?” the woman asked. Her high-pitched voice made Fahrenheit sick.

The ghoul grinned automatically, “I’m the mayor of this town. Who wouldn’t tell me? Moreover, I had a line leading right out my front door,” he winked at Fahr and kept talking to the girl— _Nora_ —it was her name, apparently. She hadn’t introduced herself and Fahrenheit couldn’t care less, but she guessed it by the regularity and intensity with which John said the goddamned name like a broken record.

“No one steals from me. But I gotta admit, you and Bobbi pulled one hell of a job. Almost makes me wish I had done it myself,” he picked a jet’s canister up, dusted it off and took a big hit. His eyes widened and he puffed out his cheeks, then let himself fall backwards on the couch. “Bobbi’s smart, but not half as smart as she thinks she is.”

“My, Mr. Mayor; so aside from being a charmer, you’re the brains as well?”

“Heh. You know how to get a guy’s attention, _doncha_ ’? You have me at your mercy, Nora.”

Fahrenheit clicked her tongue, disgusted. She shook her foot and rolled her eyes. She couldn’t believe the absurd scene that she had been forced to witness so early in the morning. She got tired pretty quickly of that cheesy flirting and ended up snapping. Had she finally lost her good manners? Goodness gracious; of course not. After all you can’t lose what you don’t have.

“Quit screwing around,” the redhead barked, curling her upper lip and revealing her fangs. It was, as well, too early in the morning to deal with cunts. Any time of the day would be too early, to be honest.

“Woah there, Fahr! that’s not how we treat guests. Lay off that crap,” Hancock coughed, clearing his throat. It continued to be as husky as always, though. “Look, I’m not proud of having to put you through that, but I need you to take care of Bobbi—”

Fahrenheit sat up like a spring. Action! At last! She had almost fallen asleep in the door frame. “Fine. Just tell me when and how you want it.”

“Huh? I wasn’t talkin’ to ya…” he looked at Nora and the redhead felt her stomach burn like nuclear fire. “I ain’t proud of having to put you through that Nora, but this thing with Bobbi has to be done—”

“Wha—!? I can handle her, you know—”

“I said no. Now come on. I'm done talkin'.”

 

And it was that precise moment, in which Fahrenheit stopped listening. Not only that; it was as if the world had suddenly stopped spinning and that same room had become the new epicentre around which all things converged. Her heart stopped beating and a deafening whistle rumbled in her ears. Everything had become the same color, as if she had lost consciousness for a moment, but no. She wasn’t that lucky. An uncomfortable silence filled the air between them, but deep within her mind laughs and giggles continued tormenting her, dulling her senses. With shaking hands, Fahrenheit brought a cigarette to her lips and lit it, trying to calm her nerves. But then she remembered that she had spent the last one in motherfucking Bert.

She didn’t remember the bandages under her clothes or how her muscles ached. She didn’t notice the worried look Hancock had on his face. She didn’t even question his motives or the reasons behind his choice. She only knew that, for the second time within a short time period, she had been cast aside. She had lost against that bitch. Against her—the vaultie, the new girl. _Nora_.

She had been the chosen one. The winner. Not Fahrenheit.

 

Of all chess pieces, the redhead never actually thought herself a queen. Heck, she was not that important to begin with. She rather saw herself as a rook. Strong, fortified and impenetrable—able to cause terror on the battlefield and powerful enough to deliver checkmate. But then, reality caught up with her and she found herself face to face with her own delusions of grandeur. Then she realized it. She had always been a pawn, one that was quick and clever enough to be promoted to a rook. But a pawn after all. And, like pawns, she had been disposable all-time long.

Dispensable, unimportant, and easily replaceable.


End file.
